


Woman, I Feel Like a Man

by Andromeda



Series: Man, I Feel Like a Woman [2]
Category: Life on Mars
Genre: Genderswap, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-28
Updated: 2008-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:12:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromeda/pseuds/Andromeda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The further adventures of girl!Sam and Annie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Woman, I Feel Like a Man

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry, the title came to me and I couldn't help myself. Many, many apologies to you all. With internet cookies, hugs and rent boys to [](http://draycevixen.livejournal.com/profile)[**draycevixen**](http://draycevixen.livejournal.com/) who was eternally patient and wielded the whip to get this into shape for me.

Sam had got used to being of the female persuasion. He'd even got used to the complete obliviousness of his colleagues at the Station. Regardless of the number of times the Guv had thrown him up against the wall, the filing cabinet and, on one recent occasion, Superintendent Rathbone, not one word had been said.

Which, to Sam, was fine. Hunky dory. Wonderful, even. No awkward questions to be asked. No derogatory jokes to be cracked. Well. No more than usual, anyway.

Except. Well, there was no except, surely. His sex life was good, so good in fact that Sam had started to question, more than once in fact, Annie's natural proclivities.

Those vocalised thoughts generally led to a temporary cold shoulder and slightly more salty tea than would normally be expected.

So why was he lying in the near darkness of Annie's flat, idly toying with her left nipple and thinking that there was still something lacking?

"What's it like ..." he started. Then stopped, not really wanting to give voice to his thoughts.

"What's what like?" Annie asked, half asleep.

Sam grimaced into the dark. "It's just … oh. You're just going to think I'm being idiotic."

Annie rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow. "I always think you're being idiotic. It's your defining characteristic. There's very little that would make me think you're being even more idiotic than your basic state. So. Out with it."

"Well. Okay. What is it like to be with a real man?"

"Well, we tried that thing with the strap-on last week."

"And it was good. More than good. Well, once you'd taken over. I'm not sure my hips could take much more of that. I just. It's. It's the overwhelming power and smell of a real man, enveloping you, weakening your knees. Making you both terrified and feel safe at the same time."

Annie flopped onto her back. "Okay, I take it back. There's quite a lot that can make me think you're being more idiotic than usual. Christ, Sam. You really are a girl. And a 'fainting at the sight of David Essex' type of girl at that. When it comes to sex, there's only really one thing you need to do as a woman. And that's find someone who knows the territory. And, believe me, Sam. No man _ever_ knows the territory."

"Now that, Annie, is unfair. I am, was, a man. And I know all about the clitoris. And I can find it three attempts out of five."

"That's not the point, Sam. Sex, to a man, is about getting himself off. Which is fine, in a way. It's what evolution and making babies is all about. But it's not as if that kind of attitude is ever going to work with a woman."

"Well it seems to, else the human species would've died out by now."

"Some girls are just eternal optimists, obviously."

"And that's blatantly unfair. I've shagged lots of girls who very much enjoyed the experience."

"So they said."

"Hey!"

"Look, all I'm saying, Sam, is don't get your hopes up. It's not all it's cracked up to be. And anyway, I thought we were a couple. We're doing well, or so I thought. So why are you wanting to look to the other side of the fence?"

"Oh, Annie. Of course I'm happy. We are doing well. It's just. Well, I'm not sure how long this is going to last. I really ought to get as much out of the experience as I can, surely. It's scientific."

"Scientific?" Annie snorted. "So you're announcing that you're quite willing to cheat on me for the scientific cause?"

"It's not cheating if you know about it in advance. And it's not cheating if you're there as well…"

"A threesome? No way on earth."

"Oh come on. I'm going to need someone more experienced to guide me in this."

"Most girls don't. Oh, fair enough. Most girls are not like you."

Sam wasn't quite sure, but that one sounded like an insult.

"Look, if you're right, then nothing changes. I'll never mention it again. And you can take the royal piss for as long as you want. But, you know. It's going to be an itch ready to be scratched until it happens."

"And if I'm happy with the status quo and don't want it to happen?"

"I'll just have to try to behave."

"Oh, it's like that then. Looks like I've not got a choice. Fine."

"You'll do it?"

"For England's green and pleasant land, yes. But it's your funeral. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Great!"

"And I'm coming with you. Just so you don't get into trouble."

Sam wrapped his arms around Annie and kissed her soundly. "Even better! You won't regret this, Annie."

* * * * *

Sam finally realised that Annie might not regret this, but he might. At Annie's insistence, and to his despair, Sam had, eventually, poured himself into a rather short-skirted dress, stockings and even make-up. He was trying desperately, however, to avoid the high heels.

"It's normal, Sam."

"It's barbaric, that's what it is. How the hell do women walk around with these strapped to their feet? You all must be in permanent agony."

"Well, yes. Though your calf muscles do adjust eventually. I knew a prostitute once who couldn't wear anything under a three-inch heel. All those nights of wearing five-inch stilettoes."

"Urgh. Just, just no way. Can't I just wear my boots?"

"If we're going to do this, we're going to do this properly. Put them on."

"You're right. It's not as if those boots would go with the dress anyway."

Annie rolled her eyes. "No woman I know comes close to being as girly as you, Sam." She pulled something out of her shopping bag. "Right, last bit. The wig."

"Wig?"

"Do you honestly think you're going out with hair like that?"

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You look like a lesbian that's spent too much time inside. That's the problem. And that's only going to pull other lesbians or the terminally insane. Which, while intriguing, is not the object of this exercise, is it?"

"But platinum blonde ringlets?"

"It'll suit you. And it's the only one I could afford."

Sam sighed. "Okay, but if it looks stupid I'm going with what Mother Nature gave me. And that's final."

"There's nothing natural about your haircut, Sam."

Annie pulled the wig over his head and spent a little time adjusting it. "There. Go and look in the mirror."

Sam staggered over to the bathroom and had a peek. It was amazing. He actually looked like a woman. He had cleavage and everything. More than that, he didn’t actually look like Sam Tyler. Which he felt was a bonus when on the cruise for men.

Annie spent the next ten minutes extracting Sam from in front of the mirror.

"It's amazing," Sam said, taking one last look. "I really am a woman."

"Congratulations, Sam," Annie retorted. "We've finally achieved what it normally takes anyone with half a brain five seconds to realise."

Pointedly ignoring her, Sam allowed himself to be handed a small handbag and led out of the flat, down to Manchester's premier meat market, The Flamingo.

Sam felt very self-conscious. So much so that Annie elbowed him in the ribs more than once with a "Relax, Sam."

Sam grimaced. "I've never felt on show so much before."

"Welcome to the heart of what it is to be a woman," Annie retorted. "Always on show, always watched."

And, for once, Sam really didn't have a reply to that.

They drank steadily for a couple of hours, propped up at the bar, talking about nothing in particular. Every man that Annie pointed out, Sam really didn't like the look of. Every man that Sam pointed out, Annie laughed at.

It was starting to get late and Sam despaired of the plan ever working. But, attempting to salvage something out of the night, he pulled Annie out on to the dance floor.

"Well, if we're not agreed," he commented, "we still should have a good time."

So they danced, for a while, until Annie started getting a little apprehensive. She pulled him off to one side.

"What's wrong?"

"We're canoodling. On the dance floor. It really isn't done."

"We can't dance together?"

"We can't dance together like this, here, Sam. People will talk."

"It's perfectly innocent, Annie."

"Only if you're like Queen Victoria and believe that lesbians don't exist."

"Perhaps we should give this up as a bad job, Annie. If you're not going to want to get into it."

"And, if that's your attitude..."

"Well. Hello, Cartwright," a familiar voice drawled behind the fledging fight.

Annie's expression changed into a passable impression of a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

"Hello, Guv."

Sam whipped round to find DCI Hunt standing just behind him.

"So, who's your friend?" Gene took a mouthful of whisky and a long drag of his cigarette.

Annie gulped. "This is Sam. Samantha. A friend of mine."

"So I see. You were putting on quite a show a few minutes ago."

Annie turned white. "Just a friend from Uni. That's all. Sam, this is DCI Hunt. My boss."

Sam extended a hand, he'd always fancied being in amateur dramatics, and smiled sweetly. "Pleased to meet you, Detective Chief Inspector Hunt."

Gene took Sam's hand and kissed it. "Just call me Gene. My full title is such a mouthful."

"It definitely is, Gene," Sam purred.

Annie rolled her eyes. "Drink, Guv?"

"Double whisky, Cartwright. Now, Samantha, what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Sam watched Annie slink off to the bar, but emboldened, he smiled at Gene. "Oh, just visiting old friends. You know how it is…"

By the time Annie got back with the drinks, Sam and Gene were chatting like old friends. If old friends ever batted their eyelashes at each other and spoke solely in double entendres. She plonked Sam and Gene's drinks on the table and grabbed Sam's arm. "A word, Samantha," she hissed, pulling Sam out of earshot.

"What's wrong?"

"You, flirting with the Guv. That's so wrong there should be laws against it."

"It's perfect. He'll never know."

"What, he'll never know he slept with his WDC?" Annie's eyes flashed.

"I didn't mean it like that. And anyway, it's Gene. If you're not comfortable, you can duck out. Go home."

"And where are you going to take him? Your flat? You don't think he'd realise in an instant?"

Sam shot a lust-filled glance at Gene. "Please? I've got a good feeling about this."

"Men. You're all the same. Even when you're women. I'm going to need more alcohol for this. A lot more." Annie drained her glass and stalked back to the bar.

The alcohol continued to flow and Sam soon felt rather light-headed. Gene had thrown an arm round him and was holding Sam closer than Annie obviously felt comfortable with.

"So, does Sam know you're out tonight?" Gene remarked.

"Of course I do." Sam retorted from somewhere around Gene's upper chest.

Annie shot Sam a glance. "Of course he does. He said, and I quote, 'have fun, I've got a date with a rather lively Highlander'."

Sam shot her a glance back. "He's just comfortable with you having your own friends, that's all."

"And what about you two humping each other down on the dance floor?" Gene lit up another cigarette, the epitome of casual.

"He's open-minded."

Sam grinned, pulling himself out of the tight embrace he had been in. "He never says no to a threesome."

"Lucky devil."

Sam took the opportunity to run a painted nail down the front of Gene's shirt, "Well, when the opportunity arises…"

"Really?"

Sam grinned, staring Gene in the face. "Really."

Without looking over at Annie, Gene managed a rather strangled "Cartwright?"

"Oh," she grinned back, swallowing yet another triple vodka, "I just go where the wind blows."

"And you know how to do that, don't you Gene?" added Sam, "You just purse your lips and, er, whistle."

Annie burst out laughing. "Sorry, Guv. Sam's pick up technique stinks. Always has."

"Hey!"

Annie ignored him. "Shall we blow this joint?"

"Sounds like a good idea, Cartwright." Gene drained his glass. "Shall, we ladies?"

Sam and Annie followed Gene out of the club to the Cortina. Gene rested his hands on the roof.

"So, where are we going?"

Annie gave him the address and Sam automatically went for the front passenger seat. Annie grabbed his wrist and dragged him back, whispering, "let's give the Guv a show."

They climbed into the back as Gene started the engine.

"You know, Samantha, your face looks familiar. Have you relatives in this part of the country?"

Sam shook his head. "Not any more, Gene."

Annie threw an arm round Sam, pulling him close into the centre of the backseat. Her other hand gently stroking Sam's front. Sam responded with a growl, pulling her into a rather frantic kiss, his hands roaming over her breasts quite freely as he pushed her back down to lie almost horizontal across the length of the seat.

He pushed her skirt up, rubbing at her mound through her tights. Annie groaned loudly, bucking into Sam's hand.

The car swerved.

"Are you sure Sam's okay with this, Cartwright?" Gene asked.

Annie looked forward, "Oh yes. Sam's very open-minded. Doesn't mind at all. I bet he wouldn't mind if you had a go at him, in fact."

Sam readily agreed, nodding his head at the same time trying to get to grips with Annie's underwear.

"Really."

"Well, you know," Annie continued. "Sam's always accommodating."

"Always interesting to know," Gene said in a rather too nonchalant tone.

Annie grinned, pushing Sam off her. "We're here, Guv."

Gene pulled up at the side of the road and everyone spilled out. Grabbing Sam by the arse for a second, Gene called out, "Lead the way, Cartwright."

Annie dutifully led the way up to her flat, making sure to point out the bedroom on the right as she opened the door. Sam staggered in, kicking off his shoes as he did so.

"Annie, I take it all back, I'm never going to wear high heels again."

Gene smirked. "You sound just like my wife."

Annie grabbed a bottle of scotch she kept there solely for Sam and three glasses. Pouring a measure into each, she handed them out.

"To a good night."

"To a good night," Sam replied.

"To a fantastic night," Gene said, draining his glass and grabbing at Sam, kissed him soundly.

Sam felt Annie move behind him, caressing his stomach and breasts, kissing his neck.

Gene pulled back. "Can I watch?"

Annie muttered "Typical male," in Sam's ear, but grabbed Gene's hand, pulling him through to the bedroom at the same time as pushing Sam forward. She indicated that Gene should sit on the dressing table stool while she dragged Sam towards the bed.

"You better bloody perform," she whispered in Sam's ear. "That's if you want to get fucked tonight."

Sam grinned and nodded, turned on as much by the idea of being watched as the thought of Gene above him, thrusting into him. He set about putting on a show, undressing Annie with just the right care and attention.

As each new item of clothing was removed, Sam kissed and sucked at the exposed creamy flesh, raising faint red marks over Annie's body. He removed her bra and ran the palms of his hands over her now-naked breasts, feeling the nipples harden with the attention. He lifted each breast in turn, taking each nipple into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue and gently biting down.

Annie gasped, her hips rocking into him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gene, alternately stroking his still-constrained cock and trying desperately not to as he watched the pair avidly.

Sam dropped to his knees, removing Annie's panties and tights and pressed his face into her crotch. He could feel her fingers curl round his blonde ringlets as he breathed in the scent of musky arousal.

From over by the dressing table he could hear Gene's breathing getting shorter, loud even over Annie's moans.

"Hold it for me, honey, and I'll be right there," Sam purred as he stood, pushing Annie down on to the bed and climbing between her spread legs. He bent his head and set to work with his tongue, just as Annie had taught him.

"Oh, yeah, ladies," Gene groaned from his position facing the bed. "Just like that."

Sam licked and sucked, hands roaming Annie's naked body, pinching and lightly scratching at her skin when he felt Gene's hands upon him. Gene lifted up his skirt, moving his fingers under the crotch of his panties, pushing them aside.

"Sorry, love. I couldn't wait," Gene apologised, and, paused only for a heart beat before pushing his cock in.

Sam let out a mewl of half-objection, half-encouragement and Annie grabbed his head, forcing it down hard between her legs.

There was obviously some unspoken communication between Annie and Gene, because at the very moment that Annie grabbed his head, Gene grabbed his wrists, pulling them behind him.

Balanced between the two, supported by nothing but two pairs of hands, Sam had no choice but to continue to lick at any flesh within reach as Annie guided his head expertly. He managed to bring Annie to orgasm, once, twice, before Gene started to thrust uncontrollably, coming with a shout. Gene slumped slightly, forcing Sam further down onto Annie and she took advantage of the fact, riding Sam's face for a third orgasm before letting go.

Gene withdrew and, one hand on his shoulder, the other still gripping Sam's wrists, pulled Sam slightly back so Annie could shuffle free. Gene finally let go of Sam's wrists and Sam slumped to one side, still desperate for some kind of release.

Annie rolled off the bed. "Back in a tick," she winked.

Sam turned over onto his back, groaning in frustration and Gene took pity on him, pushing his dress up as far as it could go and caressing his body with rough hands.

Sam writhed beneath him, finally realising what he had been missing.

"Impressive, Sammy-boy. Didn't know you had it in you." Gene's hands wandered lower, brushing up and down his inner thighs as Sam spread his legs wider.

Sam's eyes snapped open, still in a lust-driven fog, and stared up at Gene.

"I've no idea what you're getting at, Gene."

"Dressing up like that, just to catch a real man."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Gene waved a mass of platinum blonde ringlets at him. "Did you really think that the wig was going to fool me?"

Sam blanched. He hadn't realised that the wig had fallen off. "Well, it must of worked. I believe you did just fuck me."

Gene tossed the wig onto the floor and resumed his stroking. "Knew who you were before we left the club."

"Oh, really." Sam said and then his brain finally caught up with him and he stared straight at Gene. " _Oh!_ "

Gene just grinned. "I didn't know you were a tranny."

"I'm not. I'm a woman, if you hadn't noticed. I have a woman's… bits." Sam waved his hand down towards his crotch.

Gene squeezed, hard. "So the fact I'm currently playing with your todger is a complete fantasy?"

"You what?" Sam looked down and groaned. It looked like the inexplicable experiment had ended. Though when exactly it ended during the events of the night, Sam really didn't want to know.

Gene continued to pump Sam's cock, smearing pre-cum over the head with his thumb. He curled his other hand behind Sam's head, pulling him up and into a bruising kiss.

Sam realised he enjoyed the kiss as much, if not more, than earlier. He responded enthusiastically, bucking up into Gene's hand as he sucked at Gene's lips.

Finally the stimulation was too much and Sam came undone, shouting Gene's name as he did so. He flopped back onto the bed, exhausted, and Gene pulled back, smirking down at Sam as he wiped his hand on Sam's dress.

"A little bit of that old Gene Genie magic," Gene chuckled. "Works every time." He climbed off the bed, padding over to his coat flung on the floor by the side of the stool, and pulled out his cigarettes. Lighting one, he took a drag and then winked back at Sam, still lying shell-shocked on Annie's bed.

"I was being easy on you tonight, Sammy-boy. Next time I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't sit down for a week."

"Next time?" Sam croaked. But even as he said it, he knew that there was going to be a next time. That he desperately wanted there to be a next time. And a next.

Annie really was going to kill him this time.


End file.
